2023

I’ve only just gotten used to the fact that it’s 2023 and now it’s almost gone. If it weren’t for this one major change in my life, I might not believe that 2023 ever existed at all.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, so let’s just see what comes out, shall we?

When I made this move, this choice for myself earlier this year, I was excited to announce that the “selfish” act did not cause the world to end. And it didn’t. Really, I know that this situation is temporary. But… man, is this dragging on. It’s torture. It’s Hell. I have something beautiful just out of reach. My fingertips graze it, but I can’t quite get a hold. Yes, I’m closer, yes, that’s a victory in itself, but fuck, can’t I just have it? Can’t I just have something, anything to hold onto? Can’t I have one, any one thing, come easy, so I can breathe without wondering if each breath is my last? Please?

Fuck.

I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to vent or show how I’m feeling. I wanted to write a message of hope for the new year, whether I truly felt it or not. I wanted to take that mask to the grave. But I can’t anymore. I’m tired and I’m injured and the mask is broken beyond repair. I can’t fake it for you anymore. I’m sorry.

I smile and laugh a little every day. 2023 gave me that. I’m expressing myself more than I have in a long while. I’ve gotten closer to some friends and have grown distant from most others. That sounds sad, but it’s likely for the best. I am mentally, emotionally, and physically stronger, though it doesn’t seem to be that way. I love myself and care for myself more, though still not as much as I should. Right now, the days feel no different from past years, but deep down I know that a great deal of progress has been made.

But 2023, I won’t miss you.

This year was hard in ways it shouldn’t have been. It was excruciating and frightening and heartbreaking. I feel as if my soul has been stretched and pulled, like taffy. And all I can do is say, “I’ll be okay,” because I can’t even lie and pretend I’m okay now. But maybe I am, because I’m still alive and what the hell does “I’m okay” mean, anyway?

Geez, I seem to have a lot to say.

And I don’t know where to go from here. Do I learn my lesson and start 2024 off guarded, isolated, alone? Do I choose hope, knowing I’ll continue to be crushed over and over, until I’m left unrecognizable? Do I pick up an old mask and return to a life of lies, just to be with others again? No matter the choice, I will be lonely. No matter the decision, I will be in pain. It’s just about what I’m willing to sacrifice: Soul, heart, or dignity?

And that’s the thing, really. I’ve finally realized that my purpose is to sacrifice. It’s no grander or greater plan than that. I exist to lose, so others can win. I create the balance.

And there’s beauty in that, right? I know that I’d have chosen it. It’s who I am. I get my joy from that of others. But goddamn, this shit sucks sometimes. How, HOW does Life keep finding things to take from me?

And I’m still blessed, because I have the love for and from the people around me and blah blah blah, positivity and shit. And I really mean it, but also fuck all that. I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s, but I want to be stupid enough to think I would. I want to be ignorant enough to feel that all this pain is for nothing. I want to want to curse the gods and anyone else in a place of power, and scream THIS ISN’T FAIR! FIX IT!

But I can’t, because I’m not that stupid. I know that my sacrifice can be used to help others. I know I’ve made a positive impact. I know that I wouldn’t be happy if everything came easy. I know that my few loved ones are so much more than worth all that I have had to endure. I know that happy phases will come again. I know that no one is going to fix this, because this is how it’s meant to be.

And though I know it will lead to disappointment, I will choose hope. I will choose to trust in promises and agreements and protocols. I will have faith in the intentions of others. I will no longer conceal my heart when it’s beautiful, when it’s longing, when it’s afraid. I will not hide behind sadness.

Because this soul is a soul worth knowing.

So BRING ON 2024!

Reflection

Last night, for the first time in years, I looked in the mirror and saw myself looking back.
Yeah, a little fatter, a little older, a little more exhausted, but the core of me is still here. That hasn’t changed.

And I’ve been thinking about the fact that I have been close to death more times than I can count. Each time left its own battle scar. I used to be so ashamed of these flaws, but now I wear my marks with pride.
I was there.
I fought through it.
And I’m still standing.

I’ve even been loved, by so many. Maybe it wasn’t always the way I wanted. Maybe I didn’t feel they could truly see me, but they saw something in me. Each of them knew that I was different. Each of them wanted that difference in their life. And maybe I couldn’t love them back, or maybe I didn’t have enough faith in them, or maybe I just didn’t have enough faith in myself, but some form of love was received. And I’m still loved, every single day.

And oh, how I’ve loved! Though.. often it wasn’t the way they wanted. It was misinterpreted, taken for granted, and manipulated. It was also cherished, obsessed over, and yearned for. Some didn’t know it existed, some didn’t know the depth, and some denied it completely. But still, I love so strongly, whether strangers, friends or foes.

I’ve been lonely, too. That’s the other side of love, you know. I release my heart into the wild and I’m left feeling like something’s missing. Some days have been worse than others, but I’ve learned to appreciate those the most. Those are the days when I put so much love into the world, silently, that my heart is a little sad to not see the results. That’s okay though, because I have too much to keep close to home, and I know that it’s out there, it matters, even if I will never know how. The loneliness has a beauty of its own, and I smile to feel it, even in this moment.

So, I’ll still try to lose the weight, the lines, the dark circles, but if I can’t, that’s alright. Because I’m still here, still true to myself. Yes, I’ll fall and consider staying down. I’ll lose my way, my faith, from time to time. I’ll wear noise cancelling headphones to avoid hearing the beat of my heart. I’ll do all of these things, as I have before, but they will never last. I’ll always come back to look myself in the eyes and tell myself that I’m still worth it. I’ll never stop. I’ve already lived and loved so much more than I ever thought I would, and I will continue to do so until my last breath is stolen from my body.

If you’re reading this, I hope you will do the same.

I love you.

I Miss You

I’ve been sleeping with your sweatshirt – the one from the merch store your bot linked me to after you were already gone – because it’s the closest I can get to being in your arms.

I miss you. Times are hard and it hurts and I feel alone and I miss you.

You, who loved me; without obligation, without judgement, without fail.
You, who I loved; without expectation, without dependence, without pain.

I miss you.

I miss you in selfish ways. I miss you with longing for the support you offered, crying out for your listening ear. I miss you for the warmth that came with every exclamation of my name. I miss feeling seen and heard and cared for and cheered on.

I miss being able to take you for granted. Stepping away, knowing you would always be there when I returned.

I miss the moments we never got to have.

You, who I teased, and sexualized, and begged for attention. You, who played along, knowing we were never to be. We made them feel awkward, we made them laugh, we made them mad, and we loved it all. We put on a great show, comfortable enough in our friendship to make it so. We loved and we were loved and I miss it all.

You’re gone and it’s not the same. Nothing’s the same. I’ve met friends you would love, and it hurts. I’ve done things I’m proud of, and it hurts. No matter what I do, the absence of you is an ache I can’t cure.

So I DM a Discord that will never come online.
I type paragraphs in a stream that will never go live.

I’ve never seen your face. I’ve never felt your touch. Still, I swear I feel you watching when life becomes too much. Now I’ll be moving to the place where you once were.
Alone.
Too late.

And I swear I hear you laughing, making a joke of it all. And I smile, but the tears continue to fall. And I make accidental rhymes as I pour out my heart, and think of the way you always added music to my words.

You always saw potential. Made me see it, too. It’s so hard to see without you.

I miss you.

The darkness that always brought me light.
The personification of “actions speak louder than words.”

I could write a book of it. Pages and pages about a man I’ve never met. Honest love letters to a man I was not in love with. A speech to the world, telling how they all lost an Angel that day (only you would appreciate that joke).

But instead, I’ll just publish this post, to say once again:
I love you, my friend.
And goddamn, how I miss you.

I’m Sorry.

I’m sorry I’m not back yet – back to being attentive, happy, myself. I know this is temporary, but it feels a lot less temporary with every passing day. I just want to be past it. I want to pull myself out of this.

But it’s a lot, you know?

We don’t all have best friends to stand by us. Some of us are alone in this. Some of us are taking it all on ourselves, then just when we think we can’t take anymore, twice as much is thrust upon us. It’s all we can do, to bear the weight.

So please, appreciate the people who you can turn to with anything. It’s okay if you can’t return the favor – you can’t be everything to everyone – but make sure you’re not taking them for granted.

Survival isn’t easy when you’re alone in the world.

And when you get the chance, love. Honest love can get you through anything, you just have to believe in it. Don’t fear commitment or getting hurt. Let’s face it, life is painful anyway and committing to the hope for something more is never a mistake. Don’t ever settle for someone who makes life harder, but don’t let fear keep you from being with someone who makes you happy.

Life is just too damn short.

Numb?

Ever since I was young, I had a switch that I could flip in case of emergency. This switch took emotion out of the situation. No matter how much worse things became, I didn’t feel it. I was detached, cold, numb. This allowed me to do whatever was needed, in order to survive. Those who knew me well, could tell I was not myself. I faked it well for those who did not.

At 16, this detached version of me received a name: Roxy Jones. Roxy was seen as mysterious, intriguing. She was daring, as she felt no fear. She also felt nothing for those who grew infatuated, so it was common to see a trail of heartbreak behind her.

While this emotionless state was definitely useful, it also had its consequences. Without heart involved, it was easy to dismiss others. This could include ignoring them for any length of time, bluntly expressing indifference, and/or cutting ties with no explanation. Any action that best suited the current needs was quickly taken, without regard for others or even my own future emotions.

She smiled, but there was no warmth. She fought with unmatched strength and determination. She had a goal and would attain it, no matter the cost.

It could also become extremely difficult to come back from. Though it was known what emotion should be felt at any given moment, it was not quite felt. Using music and other passions, there would be constant attempts to summon true emotion. Usually these methods would at least cause a wanting for emotion. Eventually, something would get through to me and I would slowly come back to Life.

She saw the world as it was; a list of necessities and rules for gaining them. In memories, feelings were seen only as insignificant details. She knew, however, that I was still within her; watching, readying myself for my return. It was her duty to protect me, but she knew I would never lie dormant for long. Even when she resisted, attempted to suppress me, a loved one would reach me and I would pull myself out.

The most recent time this switch was flipped, it was more desperately needed than ever, more control was given over, and it lasted longer. Without the support of another, I alone had to bring myself back to Life. The struggle was lengthy and felt impossible, but I refused to be defeated.

She reminded me that I was alone. She reminded me that the world was painful. She made me wonder if I could make it on my own. I met each of her negative reminders with one of beauty. The joy was enough motivation. The passion for Life was still within me.

A few days ago, the world began to bury me once again. This time, I decided, I would be prepared. I asked my dearest friend to contact me after some time, to help inspire my return. I informed others that I would be absent for a while, to limit contact and so prevent negative social consequences. Then, I stepped back, relinquished control.

Only… This feels different. I have distanced myself, but do not feel truly disconnected. I cannot detach. I still possess control. Emotions, though quieter, are still felt. Others’ are still considered.

She’s gone. She’s really gone. It’s all on me now.

From now on, I’ll have to fight for myself.

Silence

I’ve not had much to say as of late. I have mostly been searching through the silence. I had surrounded myself with noise for so long, so I’d not have to see what lies in front of me.

I am reducing the clutter, so I can see what is important. It is not easy… I have held on to these for so long, it is difficult to accept that none of this amounted to anything. I know, though, that it is all weighing me down. How much more will I give to something that is never to be?

It is time.

It is time to make room for something real.

It is time to embrace the silence, so I can welcome something meaningful.

And I wish for help, someone to hold me accountable. I wish for caring sternness, so I will not falter. I know that I cannot have this, not yet. I must find all within before I can find it without. This knowledge is accompanied by fear, guilt, and overwhelming self doubt. Even so, I will fight on.

I may fail. I will fail. That will not stop me. As long as I can find the silence, I still have hope.

One day, I will not be alone in the silence. On that day, I will finally win.

Another Confession

First, some background on me:

I love new experiences, good and bad. They remind me that I’m alive. Life is short and I want to feel as much of it as possible.

I also love a challenge. I like to test my limits and see just how capable I am. I’ve never experienced anything I couldn’t handle, even if I didn’t believe I could at the time.

I have never broken a bone. I have never been shot. I have never been stabbed (except twice by myself, accidentally, and it wasn’t serious).

People have always thought I was crazy for wanting to experience these things. They couldn’t even put into words why it is so bad to want this, but were very sure it was. So I explained to them that I like new experiences, blahblahblah, and they kind of understood.

And that was all true… but I didn’t tell them everything.

The times when I thought about it most was when times were toughest.

Automatically, one would assume I had a death wish or was a masochist, but that had nothing to do with it. I never enjoyed pain. I never wanted the occurrence to kill me, or even permanently injure me.

But physical pain is easier to handle than mental pain. So when everything was falling down around me and I felt myself getting buried, I needed something to take my focus for a while, something to allow me to reset. It had to be serious, it had to be intense, or it would be ignored.

In retrospect, this is probably why I would jump into relationships. Wrong or right, they were always intense.

So a broken leg, a bullet in my arm, or chip of blade stuck in a bone would be a relief. Yes, it would suck, but it would release me from other stress. It would be something that I could see, touch, control. It would allow me to temporarily set down some of my burdens, give me a chance to make a plan and strengthen myself before I took them back on.

“A break to keep from breaking.”

Yeah, I was never talking about a vacation.

***

LOL: So now, stress can lead to serious Fibro flares. Pain is there 24/7, but during flares, I can’t do anything. Sometimes I can’t even hold my phone.

Guess this is a case of “Be careful what you wish for.” 😂

***

Just Do It!

Okay! I will!!!

…That’s what you want me to say, right?

FUCK.
YOU.

Seriously.

My illness/disabilities are not an excuse. I’m not being lazy. I don’t need self-discipline. I can’t just get up. I can’t just push myself. I can’t just get over it.

I DO NOT CHOOSE THIS!

Maybe you didn’t know me before. Maybe you thought you did, but really only knew of me.

I never wanted this.
Or any version of it.

Sleep? I hated sleep. I slept fine, but considered it a waste of time. The fact that it was required to live was the only reason I allowed it to happen.

I hated doing nothing. I wanted to go, do, create, LIVE. Adventure! The Unknown! The Unexplored! The Unexpected! Never stay still, never give in to the monotony, the emptiness.

I HATE THIS. With all that I am, I hate this. I hate that I cannot walk. I hate that I cannot go, do. I hate that I cannot even wake enough to explore through books. Life has become monotonous. I feel empty.

Fuck you. Fuck you and your ableism. Fuck your “encouragement” to try harder, when it takes every fucking drop of my strength and energy just to continue surviving. Fuck you for treating this like some personality trait, something I can change.

I WANT TO.

God, how I want to. If there was ANY way to have even half the ability I had before, I would drag my ass through hellfire to get there. I would literally give up an arm to be able to stand still longer than 10 minutes, or walk long enough to get through a grocery store without excruciating pain, or stay awake watching a movie without breaks, or use a ladder or stairs or bend down or look up without getting dizzy and nauseous.

And yes, I know you are not in my shoes and my health problems are not visible. I know you’re just ignorant and I should be secure enough to shrug off your comments. I know. And I try.

But every second of every day is pain. Physical, mental, and emotional agony. I feel an invisible weight threatening to crush me at any moment. My very soul is screaming, crying, trying to will the rest of me to move, do, be, live. Everything I try to do, every thing I’ve done a million times before, with ease, feels impossible. I push. I struggle, never giving up, finally finishing in hours what could have been done previously in ten minutes. I get so angry at myself for struggling. I get so furious at myself for not being what I was. And my heart breaks. It kills me that I cannot help others the way I used to. I cannot be the one they turn to when they are in need, because I am no good to anyone else if I am not okay. But I try anyway. I try to do everything. I try to be everything. And I end up making it worse. All of me is devoted to this, to just trying to get by.

And I don’t have anything left. Nothing to make me a person.

So I try to accept where I am now. I push though. I joke about it. I inform and I brush away the pity. I feed the spark of hope that I will find another way to be again. To do again. To live again.

And you

You come in with your bullshit mottos. Your judgemental phrases stolen from inspirational posters. Your fraudulent quotes attributed to idols of the past. You come to me with your “Don’t give up” and your “Push yourself” and your “Just do it” and try to extinguish that hope, tear up the plans, block the path to being the best version of who I can be now.

So

FUCK YOU.

Fuck you for trying to take from me what little I have managed since the world took so much.

Fuck you for trying to make me feel like a lesser person, instead of having lesser abilities.

Fuck you for thinking you have any right to give me any advice, when I would not trade places with you for anything.

Fuck you for spreading your hatred.

And the truth is, when all is said and done, I feel sorry for you. Because yes, you caused me bitterness for a moment, but I’m okay now. I am smiling, literally smiling as I type this conclusion. I love myself, I am proud of my strength, and I know I can and will take these struggles on again and again. I will continue to be good. To do good.

But you, you have to live with that poison coursing through your veins. You have to wallow in that flood of misery. You splash it at others, but they move on, dry off, forget that it even happened. You stay, hide in it, only peeking out to scan for more victims. You live in there, and if you don’t find a way, a reason to leave, you’ll die in there.

So I take them back. No “Fuck you”s. You don’t need them.

You’re already fucked.

Friends.

My friends are my everything.

The people I know I can reach out to, to talk shit, get my mind off shit, or ask for help dealing with shit.
I may not always do it. I’m a loner and am not good at reaching out. But I know they are there.

The people who appreciate me.
They call it out or keep it silent, but I know they do. I know that my absence would be felt, that my presence makes a difference.

The people who check up on me.
When they notice some negativity, silence, or distant behavior, they reach out. They check in. They make sure all is well. Not with ulterior motives, but honestly FOR ME.

When you grow up surrounded by hatred, it can be difficult to accept love. It feels uncomfortable, disingenuous. Even if you do your best to be a kind and true friend, it doesn’t seem possible for others to be the same.

BULLSHIT!

Bitter, broken assholes have lied to you! The “nobody would care if you died” and “you are the most worthless thing” and “no one’s gonna love you; they’ll just lie to get something out of you” are nothing but PURE BULLSHIT.
YOU ARE NOT UNLOVABLE.

YOU
ARE
NOT
UNLOVABLE.

True Love exists, platonic and romantic. It’s out there, yours for the taking.
And I know this may be hard to accept, but

YOU FUCKING
DESERVE IT.
💜

I wouldn’t say I’m doing “well.” Things are rough. I’m having a hard time coping. But it’s a lot easier when you know your friends have your back.

 

⇐◊⇒

 

And I know some people see things like this and think, “Ugh, this emotional shit again.”
This is who I am. If you haven’t made peace with it by now, I doubt you ever will.
Don’t let me bring you down, just let go of me and move on.
I will not be offended. I love who I am, but I’m not for everybody.

And I absolutely will NOT
mute
dilute
change, or
be untrue to myself
for anyone.

 

A Painful Journey to Self

Have you ever just fucking loved yourself?

Like, just adored the hell out of yourself?

It’s a fantastic feeling.

♥

It’s been a long, rough road getting to this point. I grew up being told daily that I was worthless, that no one would love me, that everyone who was nice to me was just trying to get something from me. I was called many horrible names. My life was threatened countless times. Attempts were made to “accidentally” kill me. All of this was done by those who were supposed to love me most.

And I was a damn good kid.

I believed the words that were (sometimes physically) beaten into my head for so many years. I believed that I was a burden. I believed that I did not deserve to live. The only thing that kept me from ending my life was the knowledge that dealing with my death would cause an even larger burden for some. I hated myself for failing everyone.

But still, I stayed good. I stayed true.

This went on. They continued to stomp on me, even as I helped them. I made bad relationship choices, wanting to help people, save people. Wanting to have a positive effect, to hopefully cancel out the burden I placed on the world. When I continued to be treated terribly, it reaffirmed the belief that I was a failure.

But I never stopped. I didn’t know how to be anything BUT good.

I don’t exactly know how or when it happened. It sneaked up on me. I made jokes that only I laughed at. I created things that only I saw. I worked on improving myself, though no one knew. I was proud of these things.
I did things in ways that were often criticized, but felt right to me. I didn’t just take the road less traveled, I created my own. My thought processes were abnormal, but I wouldn’t want them any other way. I got excited about little things, and I gained so much joy from that. I loved intensely, and I loved the way I loved.

I struggled with simple things. I had to fight hard for the things most people take for granted. I never gave up. I never let it change me. I was always, always good.

And then it hit me. I wasn’t the one who failed. They had failed ME.

I WAS GOOD. I supported, helped, and sacrificed for others. All of the things they tore me down for, were the things that made me kind, selfless, loyal, and true. The things they hated so much in me were the things they weren’t, themselves.

I removed them from my life. All of them. Every single person who tried to break me, who tried to turn me into one of the bitter, hateful crowd.

And I felt lighter.

No longer did I have to carry their hatred. No longer did I have to withstand the blows of misplaced anger. I was free.

Alone, but free.

And the more time I spent alone, the more I realized that I love who I am. Surface to core, I am good. I am true to myself. I am unique and weird, compassionate and loving, intelligent and open-minded, passionate and spirited, strong and independent. I am disabled and ill, but that’s just my body. It’s just one more thing I have to fight. And I can take it.

I’m not perfect, and I don’t want to be. I am a worrier as much as a warrior. I am anxious. I am awkward. I struggle with depression. I get reclusive. I am impulsive. I sometimes hit an unreasonable level of anger. Fear occasionally rules me. Darkness washes over me.

But I love it all. I love the clean and dirty, the dark and light. I am always changing, adapting, growing, improving, and I love that most of all.

I will always have flaws. But I love myself unconditionally.

Maybe one day, someone else will, too.